


i found my way (to love)

by blindmadness



Category: Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: Coda, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9945554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindmadness/pseuds/blindmadness
Summary: Elle and Emmett, after Warner. (A post-trial coda.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw Something Rotten last month, then listened to the soundtrack nonstop (as you do), which led me to a Christian Borle spiral, which led me to spiraling about _this_ musical for the last couple weeks. IT'S SO GOOD. So of course I ended up reading all the fic, and I'm very glad that multiple post-trial codas exist, BUT HERE'S ONE MORE because it seemed like I had a slightly different take on it and I couldn't stop thinking about it. :") Will I ever write for a non-tiny fandom again? GOD ONLY KNOWS.
> 
> I couldn't resist including a line from the movie, or titling this after musical lyrics. Thank you to everyone who encouraged my spiral, and also you're all the worst. <3

Rejecting Warner takes longer than Elle expects, and by the time she’s made her way through her lingering well-wishers and the crowds of reporters swarming the courthouse, it’s been nearly an hour and it’s clear that Emmett’s gone.

Elle’s stomach sinks. She knows that under the circumstances, her emotions are a little too close to the surface, but she can’t stop herself from thinking the worst. He wouldn’t have just _gone,_ she tries to tell herself. Not after how this case went down—not after what he’d said to her in court. _Did you actually think I was going to let you get away?_ That meant something, right? Has he changed his mind, seeing her with Warner? He can’t think—

_I’m gonna see you later,_ he’d said. That means he wanted to see her, doesn’t it? So where could he have gone?

Elle scowls as she uselessly scans the plaza and street in front of the courthouse, one last time. This is ridiculous. She can just text him, can’t she? This is _Emmett._ He may be the best guy she’s ever known, but hasn’t she just spent months learning that making herself an idiot over _any_ guy is so beneath her? Hasn’t she done more than enough of that this year?

And suddenly she realizes exactly where Emmett is.

Half an hour later, she’s back in Cambridge, emerging from a cab right across from the bench where, what seems like a lifetime ago, she huddled in a deeply ill-advised bunny costume, hating her life. And to her relief, there’s someone sitting on it.

He looks up when he hears the click of her heels on the brick sidewalks and stands, his smile wide and warm. “Hey—you made it out alive. Our star. Congratulations, Elle. I knew you could do it.”

She beams at his words, though his hands are in his pockets and he doesn’t move to hug her again, like he did in court. And she’s surprised to find she’s a little shy of initiating herself, especially after he left her with Warner. “Well, you know,” she says modestly, “the rules of hair care are simple and finite.”

“Sure,” he says, wry, but he’s still smiling. “Sorry for leaving so quickly, but I figured it’d be a zoo out there.” He looks out at the relatively empty street, then back at her, smile a little crooked. “Easier to talk here.” She nods, understanding, and he adds, “What did Warner want?”

Elle takes a deep breath; she doesn’t want to screw this up, even if he just sounds curious and nothing more. But the whole thing is so absurd that she finds herself just blurting out, “He _proposed.”_

Emmett’s eyes go wide in surprise, then narrow in a wince. “Yikes,” he says, dragging out the last letter in a hiss. “Vivienne dumped him, didn’t she?”

Elle can’t help a laugh. It seems like Emmett has always known Warner better than she has. “She did,” she confirms, then adds hastily, “I said no.”

Emmett’s expression turns quizzical. “Of course you did,” he says, and it’s Elle’s turn to blink, startled. “Did he really think you’d have that little self-respect? He doesn’t know you at all.”

Elle struggles to keep her expression looking relatively normal. “You weren’t—” she starts to say, but stops herself, because she was going to say “worried” and she hasn’t even confirmed that he’d have any _reason_ to be worried that another man wanted to marry her. She’s annoyed that she’s so flustered; she just won a murder trial, for god’s sake. She should know how to have this conversation.

She finally settles on asking, “Why did you want me to talk to him, then?”

Emmett looks even more taken aback by this question. “Well,” he says slowly, like it should have been obvious, “he was a big part of your life for so long. I thought—I don’t know. I figured you might want the closure.” Now he’s looking a little worried, though, as he adds, “Was that not okay?”

This, Elle thinks in wonderment, is exactly why everything has always felt so easy with Emmett. Their entire relationship has been him opening the door for her and encouraging her to walk through it, but always letting her make the choice on her own. She’s never had anyone like that in her life before.

It’s why she loves him so much. She hasn’t fully acknowledged it before, hasn’t so much as thought those words, but she realizes now just how true it is.

“It was,” she admits, smiling at him in relief. “It’s nice to know that that’s behind me. I’m so different now, and it felt really good to tell him that.”

She hopes it isn’t her imagination that Emmett looks relieved, too. “Good,” he says firmly. “If you had actually considered it—well. You wouldn’t be the woman I thought you were.”

Has he moved a little closer? Elle meets him halfway, taking another step in turn. Her smile becomes a challenge, both flirtatious and daring. “What kind of woman do you think I am, counselor?” she says, and he grins at her. It’s familiar and it’s openly affectionate, and she wonders how long he’s been looking at her that way when she hasn’t been paying attention. Well, she definitely is now.

He tips his head as if in thought, though his eyes never leave hers. “Brilliant,” he says, slow and soft. “Determined. Talented. Insightful. Generous.” He reaches out, hesitantly, to tuck her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering. It’s the most intimate way he’s ever touched her, and she feels herself lighting up under it. “And so beautiful I sort of can’t believe it.”

She likes that he said it—the thing that she used to be proudest of, the thing she used to think she was best at—but she _loves_ that he said it last, as if it’s the cherry on top rather than the only thing she has to offer.

“Way too good for that asshole,” he adds, and Elle rolls her eyes.

“Can we stop talking about Warner now?” she says. “I don’t need or even want him anymore—I’ve been over him for a long time. I wouldn’t have considered accepting him for a second, even if—” And now it’s time to be brave, as brave as she was when taking the LSATs or moving across the country or taking Brooke’s case as her own. So she looks right at Emmett and she finishes, “Even if I wasn’t in love with someone else.”

Emmett’s expression softens. “Yeah?” he asks, reaching to tentatively rest his hands at Elle’s hips; she smiles at him, encouraging. “Anyone I know?”

Elle beams, putting her arms around Emmett’s neck; she’s never hesitated to touch him before, but then again, it’s never mattered so much. “You could say that,” she says, and leans in to kiss him.

He immediately responds, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer, so enthusiastic it nearly lifts her off her feet. His hold on her is firm, but his mouth is gentle, thorough. She leans fully into him, and it feels like fireworks—like the first time she set foot in a department store—like the rush of joy from winning a case.

But it also feels like barely any time before he pulls away, and it takes her a moment to catch her breath (he’s a _much_ better kisser than she ever imagined) before she blinks up at him, a little disgruntled. “Elle,” he says, and she’s gratified that he sounds out of breath, too. “Hang on. Let’s slow it down a little.”

“What?” Elle demands in disbelief. “What do you mean, slow it down? We barely started!” He does, at least, still have his arms around her and doesn’t seem to intend on letting her go, which she appreciates. But she would appreciate it a lot more if he would get back to kissing her. “What’s the problem?” she says, trying to sound a little more patient. Trust, she reminds herself. Emmett has always trusted her. It’s time she return the favor. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re _not_ so super in love with me that flowers always seem to be blooming and birds are singing and unicorns are frolicking through the clouds?”

Emmett laughs, incredulous, but his expression is solemn and somewhat sheepish when he looks back at her. “I _am_ so super in love with you that flowers are always blooming and birds are always singing and—sorry, what was that last one again?”

_“Unicorns,_ Emmett,” Elle says, but she’s beaming again. She has to give him credit, both for saying it with a straight face and for infusing it with enough certainty that it feels as good as serious declaration would, maybe even better. “Try to keep up.”

“Right, unicorns,” he says, “how could I forget,” and Elle wrinkles her nose at him. _“Seriously,”_ she says, and he sighs, expression obligingly going more sober.

“I do love you,” he says. “I want to be with you. But you’ve had a hell of a past couple days. A lot has happened. I just think we should—you know, give it a little time. Make sure you’re not rushing into things. I don’t want you to make an impulse decision you’ll regret.”

Elle laughs in his face. It’s something she would never have even considered doing to the man she loved a year ago—but she’s a very different person now, and in love with a very different man.

“Emmett,” she says when she’s stopped, “I decided to come to Harvard on an impulse decision. I met Paulette because I made an impulse decision. I got Nikos on perjury—I got Brooke’s alibi—I came back to take over her case myself—all impulse decisions.”

“I’m really glad you’re comparing our potential relationship to a murder trial,” Emmett says. “That’s so romantic.”

Elle disentangles herself from him enough to hit his shoulder. “Stop that. My _point_ is that I have great instincts. All of my impulse decisions turn out really well. So don’t worry about it.”

Emmett is now looking a little alarmed. “I’m, uh—I’m not sure that that’s how it works.”

Elle wrinkles her nose at him, but gentles her tone. “You’re right—a lot has happened in the past couple days. A lot has changed for me in the past couple months. You know what _hasn’t,_ though? The fact that you have always been there for me, even when you barely knew me. I’ve always been able to count on you, and you’ve shown me that now more than ever. I know how I feel about you. I have no reason to believe that that’s going to change. Okay?”

Emmett hesitates, but says, slowly, “Okay,” and Elle feels him relax—a good sign—as he leans in. She tips her face up expectantly, but instead of kissing her, he just rests his forehead against hers. His expression is soft and warm and affectionate and a million other wonderful things, and she realizes that he’s _always_ going to be looking at her this way, now. And she can look back at him the same way. She didn’t think anything could feel better than winning that trial, but this sure comes close.

After a long, peaceful moment, Emmett murmurs, unable to quite carry off his wry tone as well as usual. “If we crash and burn, I hope you realize I’m holding you fully responsible.”

Elle resists the urge to laugh at him again, instead just arching an obviously judgmental eyebrow. “Emmett Forrest,” she says, chiding, “do you actually believe that that’s going to happen to us?”

And—finally—she feels the last of the tension leaving him, as a slow, hopeful smile crosses his face. “No,” he admits, gathering her close again (she loops both arms back around his neck, satisfied). “I don’t. I told you; I’m not going to let you go.”

“Well, I’m right here,” Elle retorts. “Are you going to keep _talking_ or are you going to do something about it?”

Emmett’s expression sharpens, focusing on her with enough intensity to make her deeply regret that they’re still in public. “You make a compelling argument,” he murmurs. “Has anyone ever told you you should be a lawyer?”

Elle huffs out an exasperated breath and tugs him down to her. This time, he doesn’t pull away.


End file.
